


Reunite My Mind

by RougueShadowWolf



Series: 15 Minutes [148]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Damaged Stiles Stilinski, Hurt Stiles, Married Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Temporary Character Death, mentioned Allison Argent/Scott McCall - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 00:09:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7076377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RougueShadowWolf/pseuds/RougueShadowWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boyd had seen Stiles die, he’d heard the bones break and the last breath escape his body as Gerard Argent stomped the life out of Stiles Stilinski’s body, and yet there he stood on the side of the road soaked to the bone by the heavy rain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings fellow travelers of misery! Welcome to the world of 15min fic’s, if you aren’t familiar with this little traveling agency let me warn thee each fic is written under the time of 15min (hence the name of the series) and each fic is an odd request by my friends (this one by a friend who for now is called Romantic-Robot) and so these fic’s aren’t works of art since I don’t have the time to think about what I’m writing or how I write it, most often we are drawn to a sudden end. 
> 
> But anyways so Romantic-Robot wished for a fic where Stiles dies but comes back, she also wanted me to use the following words in the fic; headstone, statement, funeral, candy, expecting, shit, and shivering. I can only hope I remembered to use them all.

  
It had started to rain again, for the past two weeks all it seemed to do was rain. Derek glared up the sky, he was starting to regret coming back to Beacon Hills not that he didn’t enjoy his job or the few friends he’d made, but none of them felt enough of a reason to keep him there and yet for some strange reason Derek couldn’t leave again.

Quickening his steps Derek moved from Mrs. Stilinski’s grave heading over to the her sons grave, a grave that held no body just a casket full of junk such as Stiles favorite candy and sodas, a couple of letters from friends and family, pictures and Stiles’ Lacrosse stick. The funeral had been a dreadful affair with the Sheriff screaming at both Chris and Allison, demanding to know where his son was, the grieving father had gone as far as to pull-out his gun at them.

If it hadn’t been for Boyd’s detailed statement on what had happened down in the Argent’s basement they might’ve all continued to think Stiles was alive out there somewhere, but Boyd had seen and heard Stiles die a memory that had haunted the beta to his dying breath.

There wasn’t a body in the ground and yet Derek felt a need to visit Stiles as much as he visited the other dead he held close to his heart, or which he just felt shouldn’t be forgot so easily.

`It’s raining again,´ Derek sighs as he crouches down before the simple headstone, carefully he picks away dead leaves and twigs, he removes the now dead yellow and red roses replacing them with a bouquet of red, white and blue flowers.

  
`So, Captain America again, I’m sorry, apparently the flowers Helen had ordered didn’t arrive so we’ve got the captain, ´ he speaks to nothing really but hopes Stiles might still hear him wherever he may be, `She swears however that next time she’ll have Hawkeye for you, after that we’re starting over again with the Star Wars theme again, not that she’s complaining since she’s apparently been planning it since last year really.´

Derek looks at the flowers for a minute before continuing, ` Oh I didn’t forget about your mother’s birthday, I got her a really big and colorful bouquet this time. I think I might be the reason the flower-shop is still running with all the flowers I keep buying.´

Taking in a slow steady breath Derek rises back up to stand, eyes lowered as he says, `Not sure if Scott’s been around to tell you, but Allison and he are expecting – a girl according to Parrish.´ As he looks up he catches sight of Gerard Argents grave, the bastard had died a month ago taking the whereabouts of Stiles body with him to the grave.

`I don’t even know why I’m talking to you, it’s not like you’re here. ´ Derek says voice laced with the bitter anger he was struggling to contain these days, he’s been angry ever since Stiles was lost, he felt like he’d failed the teen but not only that he felt like he’d failed Stiles father when he just couldn’t find Stiles body; but although Boyd had been able to tell them what had happened down in the Argent’s basement, giving them even a time of death, his now dead beta couldn’t tell them anything more other than that one of Gerard’s men had come downstairs and just walked away with the body.

Boyd hadn’t shared all the gruesome details of Stiles death with the Sheriff, he hadn’t told the man who’d broke down screaming about the agony his son had been in before death finally showed him mercy, but Boyd had shared the horrific details with Derek after he’d snapped at Boyd and accused him of hiding something. These days Derek wished he hadn’t pushed Boyd into revealing the last minutes of Stiles Stilinski, he found no comfort in knowing that Stiles last words had been, `Fuck you,´ instead of telling Gerard where to find him, all Derek thought about was the way Boyd had described the sound that came from Stiles chest when Gerard stomped on it, of the way the broken bones sounded as the rubbed against one another as the old man stood on Stiles sunken chest, he would never forget the sound Boyd made to describe Stiles last painful breath.

Derek had never thought he could hate the Argents any more than he’d done after the fire that killed his family, but hearing how Stiles had been beaten and kicked, stomped on like some bug the hatred was viciously wild and unyieldingly strong.

Scott might’ve had it in him to forgive the Argents, to marry Allison and start a family with her, but Derek couldn’t forgive them and never would, she’d played a part in Stiles death just by knowing that her grandfather was going to take him. And after learning how both Allison and Chris had attended Gerard’s funeral there was no way in hell Derek would ever forgive or tolerate one or the other.

`I’ve got to go, but I’ll be back in a few days.´ Derek tells the grave where only a casket full of junk in the shape of sweets, pictures, a few letters and Stiles lacrosse stick sat underground.

Without a word of goodbye Derek gathers his things and walks away from Stiles’ grave, he takes a detour to kick Gerard Argents headstone to the ground and taking a piss on the grave for good measure, it was hardly the first time he did it and he wasn’t even the only one who kept vandalizing the grave since Isaac did it too from time to time.

Derek drives back to his house slow, the heavy rain making it difficult to see and frankly there’s no real hurry for him to get back to the almost empty house, a grumpy looking ginger cat had taken up lodging in his house the creature with a mean face came and went as it please but with the weather as it was the beast would be there no doubt waiting to be fed again.

He almost curses himself for building a house where his childhood home had stood instead of staying at the loft, at least when he stayed at the loft he didn’t have to worry about driving off of the road on his way back home in a rainstorm, then again a part of him had desired to be closer to nature and as far from Scott McCall as possible without leaving town, but with the poor weather conditions Derek was starting to rethink his choice in housing. Derek’s just about to grab his phone and call Isaac giving him three months to find a new place because Derek was going to move back into the loft when something appears suddenly right in front of his car.

`Shit.´ Derek cries out while turning the wheel sharply, he’s barely able to avoid hitting the pale human shape and he just about narrowly avoids crashing his car before coming to an uneasy stop at the side of the road.

His heart is racing, painfully so. The world seems suddenly too loud the rain beating down on his car sounds like thousand s upon thousands of hammers hammering away at the car, the windscreen whippers seem to screech dementedly, the engine rumbles like a gigantic beast from ancient myths, and Derek’s own blood rushing through his veins sounds more like a waterfall. He sits there for a minute or two just trying to get his breathing under control. Once he does regain control of his breathing he’s flooded with a burning rage which grows as he sees through his rearview mirror that the man just continues to make his way down the road with the speed of a snail, it pisses Derek that some stupid idiot was walking alone down the dark road in a rainstorm no less.

Furious about almost having another death on his conscious Derek is out of the car in a heartbeat yelling after the slowly moving figure dressed in white, well not exactly white the sweatpants are a pale grey sort of a color and the blouse the guy is wearing seems an odd shade of white with drops of black here and there as well as various curious little lines.

`You fucking idiot! ´ Derek yells as he rushes after the stupid bastard, `I could’ve killed…´ the words get stuck in his throat when he realizes the guy isn’t wearing a blouse and that the marks are moles as well as cuts and old scars, but that’s not what has him going quiet or pausing in his movements, it’s a familiar set of moles and that draws his attention to the face that wore a blank expression.

Derek staggers back, he struggles to believe what or who he is seeing walking down the dark and dreary road. But there’s no doubt about it, it’s Stiles even if he looks years older than what he’d been at the time of his supposed death, even if he was covered in scars it was still the same kid that had held his paralyzed body above water for almost two hours.

`S-St-Stiles?´ Derek croaks as he hurries to catch-up with the young man who wasn’t wearing anything else than a pair of dirty pale grey sweatpants, there was no shirt or shoes just a pair of sweatpants that looked like they belonged in the bottom of a trashcan.

Stiles pauses before slowly moving his head slowly to face Derek, and although it was almost as if someone had turned off the lights inside Stiles head those eyes were still familiar to Derek.

`Oh My God, Stiles.´ Derek breathes out in disbelief, the young man just stands there shivering looking at him with no expression at all on his face, and yet although it seems Stiles doesn’t recognize him Derek’s joy is undeniable he goes even as far as to hug the younger male.

`I – I thought you were dead.´ Derek confesses as he hugs Stiles tightly, `I thought you were dead.´ it takes a minute before he feels Stiles raise his arms to hug him back rather awkwardly, and yet it pushes Derek to hug Stiles just a little bit tighter.

`Erek?´ he hears Stiles croak like Stiles wasn’t used to talking anymore, like speech was a trait now that did not come easily to the young man.

`Yeah it’s me, ´ Derek says while pulling back just enough to look into those brown eyes that seemed to have their spark, and `It’s me.´

`Erek.´ Stiles says and there’s a small twitch of a smile to be seen on the broken lips of the shivering young man.

`Oh God Stiles, what happened to you?´ Derek asks his hand resting against the pale cheek that had lost all the softness it had once possessed, ` Where have you been? ´ 

`I’ve missed you.´ Derek breathes out as he pulls Stiles back in for a hug, `I've missed you so much.´ 


	2. Erek's Jacket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something small, something quick, something I found on a piece of paper in the bottom of my bag. Hopefully it will be good enough to please at least a few.

 

 

`Erek. ´ Stiles sighs into his neck and shoulder, it’s a sigh that Derek swears he can feel right into his very own soul. Derek would swear before any God or Goddess, prophet or judge that suddenly all the strain and worry, fear and unease simply left Stiles body with simply sigh that held an altered version of Derek’s own name. Derek can feel how the shivering body in his arms loses the uneasy tension it had held, it was as if that sigh and perhaps the realization that yes Derek was there just as much as Stiles was had the power to make Stiles feel safe and secure.

With the heavy rain still beating down on them gloomy sky, Derek can’t believe this moment to be real, he can’t fathom how on earth Stiles was there and alive. And Stiles was alive, Derek could feel each puff of air that left his straining lunges, the slight rattled in them a cause for deep concern. He could feel each laboured bear of Stiles heart against his own chest, each miserable beat a declaration that Stiles was still alive.

Stiles was so very thin, all skin and bones, his unnatural cold paper-thin skin stretched out over fragile bones without any hope of hiding how malnourished the young man was. Derek could feel each unpleasant shiver of Stiles soaked to the bone body, he could hear the way Stiles’ remaining teeth were connecting with each other in a disturbing melody.

Stiles Stilinski, the boy who died and there was no doubt he had died in Derek’s mind by the haunted look in Boyd’s eyes as he revealed to all what had happened to the sarcastic teen with the loyal heart. Derek could hardly believe that this is not just a dream, one of many where Stiles retuned to the land of the living like Peter had done, and Derek fears that perhaps when Derek releases his desperate hold of Stiles that he will disappear as he’d done in all of Derek’s dreams.

No matter much he dreads letting go of Stiles, Derek has no choice but to do so. Stiles is human, and his freezing cold, humans and hypothermia did not mix well that much Derek knew.

Reluctantly Derek begins to try and create some distance between him and shivering figure he’d held so tightly in his arms, his plan was to get just enough distance between them so that he could get his jacket and Henley on Stiles’ before hurrying him into the dry and above all else warm interior of his car, but as soon as Derek made the move to do so a cry he’d never heard Stiles make before escaped the younger male.

It was such a startling sound of pure distress and alarm, that Derek pulled the young man closer, his eyes glowing unnaturally in the dark and rainy gloom of the darkening evening. There was however no threat unless the disgruntled owl in a nearby tree suddenly decided to take a page out of one of Alfred Hitchcock’s movies.

Shaking his head against Derek’s shoulder, hands uselessly pawing at Derek’s back, Stiles starts to make the most desperate and inhuman sounds that reach right into Derek’s soul and rips it a part.

Stiles is there. Stiles is alive and breathing. But this, this isn’t the same boy Derek once knew, this is a broken and cracked version of the sarcastic motormouth with no brain to mouth filter. This Stiles, this one is but a fragile shadow of what Derek had known, this Stiles was lost and afraid.

`It’s okay. ´ Derek lies, his voice cracking as he fights his own tears from rising to join the drops of rain falling down on them, which is a battle he loses as his hand travels over the rough and bumpy plains of Stiles back; he can feel each bone beneath the paper-thin skin, it makes his stomach churn to feel the details of those fragile bones, the feel of these bones some which he feels move disturbingly with every little move Stiles makes has him imagining all those hours and days Stiles had suffered hunger.

`I’ve got you. ´ Derek promises to the shivering mess in his arms, trying his best not to cry while hearing the desperate frightened sounds coming from a none-verbal Stiles, and isn’t that a terrible realization that Stiles was pretty much none-verbal now.

There may have been a time, no, there had been more than one time when Derek would’ve given anything to shut Sheriff Stilinski’s kid up. There had been more than one time when he’d made such a cruel statement around the be, one time too many if you’d ask him now. And Derek had most certainly wished Stiles both silent and gone more times he cared to recall, and like his mother had said often enough he should’ve been careful about what he was wishing for because Stiles had disappeared and a dreadful silence followed. Derek would’ve given anything now to have Stiles talking his ear-off instead of Stiles simply whimpering out desperate and pitiful versions of his name.

Derek waits for Stiles to calm down just enough to relax back against him before giving separation another go, it’s a painful prospect to have Stiles upset again but he needs to get Stiles out of the rain and wearing something that weren’t worn down to almost nothing.

`Stiles, ´ Derek tests the waters gently, his voice maybe smooth but his heart his shaky inside his chest.

`Erek. ´ Stiles sounds like his drifting off, read to fall asleep against Derek which can’t be good, Derek can feel Stiles knees give a little now and again but Derek isn’t going to let Stiles fall.

Derek might’ve lost sight of Stiles while chasing after the Kanima, he may have mistakenly believed Scott would look after him, but Derek would never again make to same mistakes again. He’d found Stiles, and he determined never to lose sight of him again.

`Stiles, I need you stay awake for me, can you do that for me? ´ Derek’s gets a long and miserable whine as an answer, but a nod soon follows and so Derek does his best to gently direct Stiles to stand on his own just for a little while.

`Stiles, I need you to let go of me, ´ a miserable whimper was the disheartening response Stiles gave his request, `Just for a little while Stiles, just for a little while I need you to step back just a little. ´

A loud pitiful cry escapes Stiles and he shakes his head against Derek’s shoulder, arms that were more bone than flesh wrap around him in a weak embrace, and it’s almost enough to break Derek’s resolve.

Derek breathes in slowly, and out even slower in hopes of keeping his voice steady and calm, it’s bloody hard to keep the tears that threaten to fall back.

Gently Derek settles one of his large hands against the back of Stiles neck which makes the boy stop moving.

`Just – just long enough for me to get my jacket on you. Can we do that Stiles? Can we at least try, for me? ´ Derek asks, begs really, and Stiles goes still for a minute, and Derek thinks he can hear the wheels in Stiles’ head turning, it’s a slow process but eventually Stiles gives the tiniest of nods.

Derek breathes out a bit of the anxiousness that had grown while he waited to see if Stiles would refuse his little request.

It’s an unsteady process to say the least to get Stiles standing on his own, he is weak and cold, his sticks for legs keep trying to give out on him, and it is visibly both a struggle and a strain for Stiles to stand on his own, perhaps even painful by the tears sneaking out of once so bright and curious eyes.

Derek is quick to remove both his jacket and Henley, he does it all in one go, and hurries to dress Stiles in the warm layers that he’d been wearing, and Stiles lets him do it all whimpering only a little when Derek moves his arms through the sleeves and when the fabrics cover his vision.

Stiles’ eyes go comically wide when he realizes he’s wearing Derek’s beloved leather jacket, and if Stiles wasn’t all skin and bones Derek might’ve found it amusing, but there’s nothing funny about watching how heavy the leather jacket sits on a body that can hardly stay upright.

With Stiles so in awe of the jacket Derek had never let anyone else wear, the werewolf is able to usher Stiles out of the rain and into his car.

`Ereks. ´ Stiles whispers in disbelief over and over again, shaky hands touching the clothes given to him. Stiles is so enchanted by the sleeves, that he doesn’t even notice Derek getting him situated in the car, so enthralled is he that Derek is certain Stiles isn’t even aware of suddenly being situated in the passenger seat of Derek’s beloved car. Stiles is so captivated by the leather jacket that he’s unaware of anything Derek does for a good while, Derek is able to get the seat belt on him or how Derek closes the door and heads around the car, Stiles doesn’t even notice when Derek gets inside the car or the moment Derek turns the heating on to the max, and Stiles most certainly doesn’t notice when Derek hesitantly starts to drive back into town. 


	3. Can you hear me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something small for you all to read.

Breathing slowly in and out, trying to calm down the storm of emotions that threatened to overpower him as he attempted to make the all-important call, a phone-call he knows he should’ve made the moment he’d found Stiles but which he had been avoiding to make.

He’s not entirely sure why he’s been procrastinating when it came to calling Stiles father, perhaps he just wanted to make sure Stiles was alright and his injuries treated before bringing the sorrow-struck Sheriff in on the knowledge that his son was alive, alive and back. Perhaps Derek simply was selfish and craved a bit more time alone with the boy he felt he’d failed, or perhaps he simply struggled with what to say to the man who one day seemed capable of dealing with great shocks and other days seemed incredibly fragile.

Derek had spent hours with Stiles, comforting and holding the skeletally thin body in his arms during the uneasy hours that was full of examinations, each injury documented. He spent many minutes whispering comforting words and promises to the younger male who seemed so lost and confused, so frightened that it put a dreadful strain on the weak body, and eventually the decision was made to sedate Stiles for his own good, Derek remained near Stiles even after he fell into a peaceful slumber and continued to watch over the weakened body.

Derek stayed nearby as Stiles lay unconscious through a CT scan that gave a disturbingly vivid picture of the damage Stiles brain had suffered. Finding the reason for the unnerving change in Stiles hadn’t made Derek feel any better, if anything it shook him up to the point of tears.

Seeing Stiles sleeping peacefully on the small bed in the small private room Derek was happy to pay for, gave him no real comfort because Stiles had been so greatly damaged by violence and neglect, and Derek feared what would happen in the future.

Stiles was wearing a hospital gown that Stiles hadn’t been easy to get into since Stiles had been unwilling to let go of Derek’s jacket, the jacket Derek had dressed him in as he tucked Stiles into the bed, a bed that smelled wrong. Derek had made sure Stiles had just enough blankets to chase away the cold he feared had settled into Stiles fragile bones.

It had been distressing to hear that Stiles was only weeks away of dying from starvation, and there had been no comfort in the knowledge that death by dehydration had been even closer.

Looking at Stiles unusually fragile, unfairly broken, Derek was glad he could afford to pay for the private care Stiles was now given, and that it came from a hospital that was brand-new and where Melissa McCall did not work.

Derek is so focused on Stiles and the peaceful beat of his heart, the sound comforting and hypnotic that he is startled by the groggy but familiar voice that calls out to him from the other end of the line. Derek nearly drops his phone when he hears the raspy and displeased voice John Stilinski say, `What? ´

It’s clear to Derek that the Sheriff had been drinking again, it makes him slightly hesitant to tell the Sheriff that his son was alive as he worried seeing his father inebriated would upset Stiles further, but then Derek recalls all the times he’d witnessed the Sheriff screaming and crying over the loss of his son, he remembers the time he found the Sheriff ready to blow his own brains out.

`Sheriff, sir, ´ Derek starts, his voice barely above a whisper so not to disturb the slumber of Stiles Stilinski.

A huff of annoyance is all Derek gets as a response.

`It’s Derek Hale. ´ Derek says and he cringes at how stupid he sounds, there’s only a few people who ever dares to call this broken man these days and one of them was Derek, not that it was easy to reach out to Stiles’ dad whenever the man fell off of the waggon be it for a day or two or for months.

Another displeased groan escapes the older-male who when drunk could be truly vicious. Derek thinks he hears a bottle or two hitting the floor on the other end of the line, the sound causes his heart drop right down into his belly.

`Sir, I found him. ´ Derek says without any grace at tall, he just threw the fact that he’d found Stiles right on out there, it was as ungraceful statement that causes Derek to flinch hard enough to feel it deep down into his bones.

`Found who? ´ the displeased man asks, the man who had spent a great deal of energy and finances in the search for his son at first alive and later the remains of his only son.

`Stiles. I found Stiles. ´ Derek just blurts out this incredible fact that according to Boyd’s statement shouldn’t be possible.

Derek looks over at Stiles pleadingly while wishing the younger man could take over this conversation for him, because Stiles at least the one that been before the Argent’s got their hands on him had been gifted with words.

There’s a silence on the line, a short one, a silence that was followed by a loud sob that was a mixture of relief and heartache.

`You – you found him? ´ the Sheriff sobs into the phone ripe with disbelief and increased sorrow.

`My baby boy. ´ the Sheriff wails with such horrific sorrow that it seemed to drain the world of oxygen, and Derek wants to kick himself for not saying he had found Stiles alive. Derek honestly felt like he should just hire someone to talk for him from now one because how could he forget to inform the man that he’d found his son alive.

`Sir, please, sir listen to me. ´ Derek starts at first gentle and pleading while listening to the loud cries that were so full of agony brought on by a form of grief Derek had thankfully never experienced. Derek knew the horrible grief that came from losing his parents, his aunts and uncles as well as cousins, but he’d thankfully never had to experience the grief that came from losing a child of his own.

`Sheriff, sir, listen to me. ´ tries again this time without the gentleness that he’d had just a moment ago, and throwing caution into the wind he continues to say, `Listen to me. He’s alive sir. Stiles is alive. ´

Derek has to repeat the declaration of Stiles being alive a few more times before the Sheriff goes hauntingly silent, Derek can’t even hear the man breathing anymore and it makes him worry if he’d just killed the man.

`Sir? ´ Derek says as the silence draws on for more than a minute, he was starting to feel the urge to call for help, not help for Stiles but his father, `Sir, talk to me. ´

`He – he’s a-a-alive? ´ the Sheriff asks voice incredibly shaky and weak, there’s more disbelief there than hope.

`Yes sir. ´ Derek says firmly before telling the older man that he’ll call him a taxi, and advising him to drink some coffee and water while he waited for his ride.

`He’s – he’s a-a-alive? ´ the Sheriff asks once more and Derek nods before realizing the man can’t possibly see his response.

`Yes sir. He’s right here. He’s resting at the moment, but he is very much alive. ´ Derek leaves out the bad things, he’d rather not tell the man about the shape his son is on the phone even if it might be easier for Derek to do so, but it simply wouldn’t be right.

`Oh my God. ´ the Sheriff cries over the phone but Derek is fairly certain that these are tears of joy and the sort one would weep over the death of a loved one.

`Sir, ´ Derek says carefully, ` I’m going to call you a cab, and it will bring you here. Just get yourself ready, sir, alright? ´ There’s no response from the sobbing man which forces Derek to put a bit more force behind his words as he asks, `Sir, did you hear me? ´

It takes a few minutes before the Sheriff is able hold himself together just long enough for him to be able to squeeze out a response that was dreadfully weak, `I-I hear y-you. ´

`Sir, ´ Derek continues as the older man goes back to crying and now thanking God, his voice is firm and unwavering, `Do you want Stiles to see you like this? Do you want to upset him sir? ´

Derek’s question causes the father to fight against his own tears. Derek can hear the Sheriff trying to breathe away the emotional turmoil that threatened to overpower him, and he gives the man the time he needs before asking, `Sir, can I trust you to get yourself ready and here in a good shape? ´

It takes a little bit time once more before the man on the other end of the call is able to respond to the question given, and the answer is a declaration of, `You can trust me. ´

Derek wasn’t entirely sure that he could trust the Sheriff not to appear at the hospital reeking of alcohol and looking a proper mess, but if the man did arrive looking dreadful then Derek wouldn’t allow him to see Stiles; the last thing Stiles needed at the moment was to see his father broken, the last thing Stiles had to worry about was his father.

`Good. I’ll see you soon. ´ Derek tells the man who continues to thank him until Derek finally ends the call.

`I hope this wasn’t a mistake. ´ Derek says to no-one really before once more calling a cab for the older-Stilinski.


End file.
